


Inferno

by calillum



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drug Use, M/M, One-Sided Rovinsky, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-26 04:03:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3836326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calillum/pseuds/calillum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kavinsky has a habit of watching Ronan Lynch and in this habit of watching Ronan Lynch, Kavinsky has picked up a second habit- Kavinsky watches Adam Parrish.</p>
<p>Kavinsky is watching.  And he is burning.  And he is either going to force Adam Parrish to burn with him or burn him down in his wake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: All You Have is Your Fire

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know. I read [this](http://charmingpplincardigans.tumblr.com/post/114238727889/god-you-scrub-my-soul-like-a-carrot-with-your-k) earlier today and I just needed to write these two. It had to happen, my obsession with Kavinsky has killed off all sane parts of my mind. The chapter title is taken from Hosier's "Arsonist's Lullabye."

Kavinsky has a habit.  That habit is watching Ronan Lynch.  He isn’t sure when it became a habit, but he knows when it all started.  Since he saw Ronan Lynch’s skin be torn apart by invisible nightmares, Kavinsky kept Ronan on his peripherals.  Now, Kavinsky can’t stop watching and Ronan Lynch is the only thing he sees some days.  The problem is, Ronan Lynch never watches him back.  It isn’t that Ronan doesn’t watch people, because he definitely the type to do so, but he has a focal point much like how Ronan has become Kavinsky’s.

 

Kavinsky has a habit of watching Ronan Lynch and in this habit of watching Ronan Lynch, Kavinsky has picked up a second habit- Kavinsky watches Adam Parrish.

 

Ronan never stops watching Adam Parrish, even when he’s watching his golden boy Dick.  Kavinsky can at least understand why he’d watch Richard Campbell Gansey III, as it’s hard not to watch him.  Even the teachers watch him, and that is fact enough to make it so that he never even comes up on Kavinsky’s radar, aside from when Dick tries to interfere with him and Ronan and then it’s all scorn and well-placed jabs. But then there is Adam Parrish, a dusty Henrietta native that spends all his time watching his feet trail as they trail his threadbare legacy over the pristine floors of Aglionby like a crime.  Or at least that’s what Kavinsky saw before he started _looking_.

 

It had been earlier that school year that Kavinsky had put together the signs.  He is, after all, an expert in the field.  Days off from school, returning with a new limp or bruise with a story about clumsiness or failed adventure, hesitation to change in the rambunctious-yet-anonymous Aglionby locker room, a failure to roll up his sleeves on particularly hot afternoons.  Then, while watching Ronan, he had seen the two get into a fight.

 

Under the surface of Adam Parrish was a fire.  Kavinsky had grinned outright when he recognized it because he knew that the blaze in Parrish’s eyes was the same he saw in the mirror every day.  Simmering below the surface was white hot anger- anger that started with the first fist ever laid upon the skin of a child and burnedburned _burned_ until it consumed everyone in its path.  Kavinsky had never minded the idea that that fire might one day pass itself on to his own son in the same manner if not quelled, but he had time for that, and the burning was the best part.

 

It had been months since Kavinsky saw the fight and knew what Adam Parrish is in the way he knows what Ronan Lynch is.  Months, and he still hasn’t figured out why Ronan watches him, because if Ronan wanted fire, Parrish didn’t burn half bright enough.  But he watched, and he still watches.  So when Ronan says “it was never going to be me and you” it drives Kavinsky into a fit.  He almost gets ripped apart by the trees that night for the first time in a long time while he searches for something that will bring Ronan back.  Instead, he wakes with bruises and cuts and a fire burning in him that he usually feeds and tames with drugs and alcohol.

 

Instead of reaching for a bottle or the stack of pills he knows is just a few inches away from his head on the nightstand, Kavinsky lets himself simmer and then smiles.  Its dark and there is no one there to see him grinning into the night, but Kavinsky just lets his mouth cut harsh lines across his face as his mind works on something.

 

Kavinsky gets up the next day and doesn’t answer his phone when Prokopenko calls or acknowledge when he passes Swan’s ridiculously painted Golf and the other boy screams out the window at him.  He doesn’t even flinch when a familiar BMW cuts him off a stop light.  No, he keeps driving until he is on the edges of Henrietta.  He pulls his Mitsubishi, number one-hundred-and-who-the-fuck-knows, into the shabby driveway of an old garage.  He’d passed here once before, when he was watching Lynch, and saw him drop off a dusty kid in an even dustier uniform. It seems he is in luck too, for coming out of the shop is that same dusty kid, wiping his hands on a grease rag that probably did more harm than good to getting them clean.

 

Kavinsky pulls himself through the window of his car, coming to rest on it with a smirk plastered firmly on his face.  Adam is still approaching the car, more slowly and warily now.  He’s frowning.  Kavinsky’s smirk turns into a grin and for as much as it grows, Adam’s frown proportionally deepens.

 

Kavinsky is watching Adam Parrish and he still isn’t sure why Ronan finds this to be so worthwhile.  But there is a fire growing in his stomach and he can feel the flames licking out from behind his bared teeth.  His skin is threatening to burn with it, but he can see the hidden flames deep behind blue eyes as the other boy finally reaches his car.

 

Kavinsky is watching.  And he is burning.  And he is either going to force Adam Parrish to burn with him or burn him down in his wake.


	2. Come on and Show 'Em Your Fangs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam doesn't understand Kavinsky and ends up reacting the way Kavinsky expects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from "Animale" by Don Diablo

It’s a slow day at the shop for the rest of Henrietta is preparing for the Fourth of July.  Even mother nature seems to be preparing for the festivities with hot, humid air that is thick with anticipation.  Because of both of these facts, Adam is left alone at the shop with little to do other than close up in another four hours.  It’s his only job today and while he could use the easy paycheck with all of the constant buzzing in the back of his head from Cabeswater, he feels quite guilty for his idleness.  Still, he is grateful for the easy day when the summer already seems endless in sleepless nights and aching bones.

 

Adam sees the black grill first, grinning like a hellish maw as it tears a deliberate path towards the shop.  It matches the equally ominous smirk that Kavinsky wears as he slides out of the window.  _Of course the window rather than the perfectly fine door,_ Adam thinks.  Kavinsky is nothing less than a showman and Adam reminds himself that behind those polarized glasses, it’s all just smoke and mirrors around a sad, sad boy who never learned how to capitalize on his privilege rather than throw it all away.

 

Adam doesn’t know how wrong his impression is.

 

Whether or not Adam likes it, he has to be civil to the Bulgarian brute because if word gets back to his boss about him being anything less than professional, he is screwed.  With that in mind, Adam inclines his head in greeting before refusing to look at Kavinsky any longer and instead goes about inspecting his car.

 

“Come to get an oil change or something?  We don’t really work on foreign cars here,” Adam warns, although he is sure that Kavinsky already knows this.

 

“Well I’m never one to pass down a lube job.”  Adam raises his eyes from the car to glare at Kavinsky.  He’s used to Ronan’s comments but somehow Kavinsky just makes them three times more lewd by merely quirking his lips.  Adam can’t see his face, as they’re blocked by his usual tacky white glasses.  Adam can’t help but think that if he had the type of funds the other boy did, he’d get a pair that were at least a bit more _presentable._   But, he’d also never have to worry about being presentable if he had those funds, he reasons and glares harder at Kavinsky.

 

The static in his head is growing louder and crackling white noise sends sparks down his spine.  He’s tense all over and he isn’t sure why other than Kavinsky is standing too close and he just wants to-

 

No, he pushes it down, mentally whispering to Cabeswater that he will help momentarily.  As soon as he gets Kavinsky out of the shop’s driveway, he’ll get the tarot cards out of his bag and listen.  While wrestling with a rogue forest in his mind, Adam’s mouth takes the opportunity to bark out his inner thoughts.

 

“In your dreams, Kavinsky.  Although, for you, I’d have to say not even then.”  The static is the least of Adam’s worries when he realizes what he’s said, eyes widening.  The day of peaceful lethargy seems to be a distant past and it is as if all of his nerves are coupling with Cabeswater in his mind to heighten his senses as he stares at the dangerous Bulgarian.  Kavinsky’s toothy grin could make an alligator think better of approaching at that moment.  Adam’s constant mantra of _don’tfightwithGanseydon’tfightwithBlue_ seems to have left out a very important _don’tfightwithJosephKavinsky_.  Adam thinks of Ronan and how the other boy would take that grin as a challenge and square his shoulders for a race or a fight but instead, Adam just drops his head and focuses on how the Virginian summer dust has painted his trainers a horrid camel color.

 

After a few moments where Adam can feel Kavinsky’s eyes ravaging over his body, the shaded boy finally breaks the silence.  “Too bad,” Kavinsky drawls, slow and apathetic as if Adam hadn’t just insulted him, “I’m sure I could dream you up a few improvements.  But that’s all for Lynch, right?  I heard he got you out of a pretty _rough_ situation, so what?  Now you’re his fixer upper?” 

 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Adam says levelly, raising his eyes in time to see Kavinsky’s grin drop as he begins to approach.  Adam can feel his blood boiling and pulse hammering in both his ears, an odd sensation now that he’s become accustomed to having a single functional ear.  He could imagine his arm swinging and landing square across Kavinsky’s jaw as the other boy breeches his personal space but the laughing image of Robert Parrish in the back of his mind prevents him from resorting to violence.

 

Before he can react, Kavinsky’s hand darts out, catching Adam’s left wrist in a death grip.  Adam lets out a small gasp of pain, flinching for a moment before recovering and meeting Kavinsky’s mirthful eyes with a glare of his own.  “Don’t I?” Kavinsky hisses, applying more pressure to his wrist.  “See, what I _do_ know is that after you break a bone, it never completely goes back to the way it was.  I also know that if you press _just like this_ ,” Adam gasps again, “you can re-break a wrist with very little effort.  Who knows- might actually cause the bone to pierce the skin.”

 

Adam glances at Kavinsky’s wrist and notices a scar, pale against his tanned Slavic skin.  Kavinsky watches him and snarls a smile once Adam brings his eyes back to his face.  After another pulse of pressure on Adam’s wrist, Kavinsky let’s it go in favor of grasping Adam’s face with both hands, bringing their foreheads nearly together with only a few centimeters separating their faces.

 

Bewildered by the strangeness of the situation, Adam finds himself breathing in Kavinsky’s stale exhales that taste like cigarette smoke mixed with mint and bourbon.  Adam has to restrain himself from gagging as he feels the flavors mix together on his own tongue like one of Kavinsky’s famous substance parties.  He realizes that this is the longest he's ever spoken to Kavinsky and quite possibly the only time they'd ever been alone together.  Kavinsky shakes his face, forcing Adam's attention back on reality.

 

Adam takes in how much more dangerous his razor grin is up close, unlike Ronan’s which seems to soften the closer Adam gets.  Kavinsky’s pupils are blown and Adam wonders how he can even function with all of the drugs he pumps into his system each day.  He pushes down the idea that maybe whatever it is that he takes could make Adam feel awake for once.

 

There is a thumb on his lip and Adam realizes that Kavinsky is tracing the scar left over from the time his father hit him so hard that he bit through his lip.  It had been a night where he wasn’t sure he’d live to see daybreak, but now all that remained from his pain and panic was a jagged white line.  “We all have scars, so don’t think you’re special because he’s taken you in as a charity case,” Kavinsky barely breathes his sentiments, but each syllable seems to cut Adam. 

 

And so Adam pushes Kavinsky away from him.  The other boy is so stunned by being flung back that he lets it show on his face for a moment as he tried to steady his footing.  Adam is breathing hard and Cabeswater is howling angrily through its branches, mimicking his outrage.  Adam’s hand goes to his lips, roughly swiping his bottom one as if he could erase the scar.  Kavinsky grins at the motion, eyes trained on his mouth in a way that is unsettling to Adam in the way that it reminds him of someone else.  If the car behind Kavinsky had been a darker shade-

 

Adam shakes his head, refocusing on his classmate.  It had been hard keeping his thoughts in a row these past few weeks but his anger was great enough to focus his mind at the moment.  “I’m nobody’s charity case.”  Kavinsky laughs, shaking his head, making Adam’s rage boil further.

 

“Right, of course you’re not,” he says with a wave of his hand, grinning as if that was the biggest joke he’s ever heard.  “So what, you’re just his bitch?  That’s priceless, you get his leftovers when he’s done blowing III?”  Adam’s mind snaps together when he realizes just who Kavinsky is talking about.  _Of course he’s here about Ronan,_ Adam almost sighs at the realization.  He has enough problems, the last thing he needs it to start dealing with Ronan’s as well.

 

“If you want to piss off Ronan, go ahead, just leave me out of it.”

 

“Oh I’d love to, but you see, that’s the problem,” Kavinsky’s adopted his bored tone again as he leans against the front of the Evo.  Adam can’t help but let his mind wander to pet owners who start to look like their precious Maltese over time and wonders if it’s possible to start looking like your car because the Evo is Kavinsky’s grin in gaudy plastic.  As his mind meanders through this train of thoughts, the other boy continues.  “Actually, you’re the problem.  It seems that I’ve been sitting here this whole time thinking that it’s Dick that keeps Ronan in that rusty old shithole like the princess he is, locked away in the tower.  Walks around like enough of a King to think he’d be entitled to do that shit,” Kavinsky spat, letting his animosity creep into his voice.

 

“But you’re the one who’s got our princess under lock and key.  And see, I really don’t like locks.”

 

“I don’t think Ronan is _our_ anything,” Adam replies calmly, ignoring the rest of what Kavinsky said.  “In fact, I think he made it very clear that he wasn’t _yours_ at all.”  Adam isn’t sure of this at all, but after having seen all of Kavinsky’s texts the other day when he borrowed Ronan’s phone, he figures it is fairly accurate.  As the dark haired boy tenses up, Adam smirks, knowing he was right and hit a nerve.  Kavinsky smooths out his coiled muscles quickly enough before plastering a smile on his face that looks too harmless to make Adam feel comfortable.

 

“Now, now, don’t go all PMS-y on me, grease monkey.  This wasn’t why I came here.”  Adam holds in a retort, eyes hard enough to convey his feelings.  “I was actually coming here to invite you to a little... gathering I’m having at my place tonight.”  Adam scoffs at this, but Kavinsky seems unphased.

 

“Yeah, okay Kavinsky.  I actually have work to do, so if you don’t mind-”

 

“It seems that Dick’s manners aren't contagious, as much as he acts like they should be,” Kavinsky snickers.  “Whatever though, it wasn’t like I was really being polite either.  I guess this is less of an invitation and more of me telling you that I’ll be expecting you at my place.  At eight.”  There is an unspoken threat there, but Adam is angry enough to not pay it any mind.

 

“Fuck you, Kavinsky.  You can’t just show up at my job and start ordering me around!”  Kavinsky’s grin is back in place with its hard edge.

 

“You’re right, except, I’m a customer.  Whom you just cursed at- I'm oh so scandalized!  And, if the state of your car- if you could even call that disgrace a car- is any indication, you can’t afford to lose this job.  So, you’re going to be at my place.  At 8.”  Adam swallows hard and he knows he is shaking by now.  He could punch Kavinsky, but he isn’t sure if that will make things worse or better.  He thinks it’s the former so he chooses to fold his arms in on himself to stop any unforeseen swinging from happening.  Kavinsky grins, recognizing the gesture for what it is. 

 

“I knew you'd play along.  I’ll be waiting for you, sweetheart.” Kavinsky says with an overdramatic kiss blown at Adam, who just scowls harder.  Once he’s halfway in the Mitsubishi- through the door this time, he pauses and smirks back at Adam again.  “Oh, and if you need directions, just as _our_ princess.  He’ll remember the way.”

 

With a wink and screech that shouldn’t belong to an engine, Kavinsky pulls out of the lot.  Adam watches him retreat down the singular road that leads to the shop until he is merely a speck.  Finally, he goes to return back into the shop but not before kicking a stack of boxes that are eternally stacked outside of the garage.  He doesn’t feel better projecting his anger and the rest of the shift drags on slowly.

 

Logistics don't occur to him until hours later, after the rage has simmered. He isn’t sure where Kavinsky lives but there is one thing he is certain of- he will not be asking Ronan Lynch for directions.  That, he thinks, is almost as good as inviting Ronan to commit murder.  But whose grave he’d be digging, Adam isn’t quite sure.


End file.
